PROLOGUE: Introspective Growth - What is “Invisible Learning”?
Fair Warning: if you’re here to see my code or my works - this post won’t be that. See any of my other posts for examples of my work or if you’re here for tutorials. As a matter of fact, I don’t even think this should count as a post - let’s just call it a portfolio prologue. I’ll be writing about how I learned about the term “invisible learning” and how it changed the way I view work. Also, I’ll write about how I’m a proponent of the path of “least-expected resistance”, and how it has helped me grow. This may be a little confusing but let me explain.
I always wanted to be an author, and this April I got my first chance at a taste.
A research paper! Not quite my young dream of a fiction novel, but one of my professors agreed to supervise a paper I write on a topic of my choice (subject to approval), and if I prove good enough, vouch for me to be published. I took this very seriously and learned everything I could about research papers (spoilers: I didn’t learn much). Turns out, the best way to learn is to do, and I learned more in 1 day of writing my paper and communicating with my supervisor than I did in weeks of reading other people’s advice.
Fast-Forward to yesterday. A colleague TA asked me how my summer’s been. “Tough.” I responded, before I really even had a chance to process the question. “I’ve spent so many hours coding on University campuses all over Ontario like some kind of modern day digital nomad, and I’ve been working on writing a (hopefully) publishable research paper”. “Well Watcha code?” — my mind drew a blank, it felt like I had spent an eternity in VSCode over the past 6 months, but I didn’t really “build” anything besides an unholy amount of visualizations and statistical analyses. “Mostly stuff for my paper”. I could tell he wanted a better answer than that but hey, it’s the best I could muster at the time.
I went to my old colleague Google and asked it if this was a feeling other people experienced. The way I perceived it, even if I had put in the most work and effort anyone ever has, which should lead to the most polished final product on Earth, I would be less, not more satisfied with my work. It felt counter-intuitive. At some point in my rabbit-hole search adventures, I ended up on the University of Waterloo’s website and discovered Bass & Enyon’s (2009) paper on this phenomenon — which they hypothesize is the effect of something they dubbed “invisible learning”. When a student takes on a project — whether it be a quantitative research project (such as mine), a homework assignment, or any other form of work which requires self-learning, the majority of the work is done behind the scenes - never to be seen again. Maybe it isn’t so counter-intuitive. After all, I certainly can’t fit every formula I used or every line of code I wrote while conducting research for my paper. I also certainly learned a lot of stuff I didn’t end up using at all.
While it was a relief I wasn’t alone, my itch was still — well, itchy. I had put in such an insane amount of work, it felt like a waste not to put it out there. Maybe it can help some sap starting out on their own research journey. Maybe I wrote a line of code I didn’t think much of, but could lead to an epiphany for someone else. Also, writing a research paper was a hugely beneficial experience, but there are a lot of stringent rules I wasn’t aware of until I started conducting my own research. I wanted to write something with a little more freedom. A little more wiggle-room. So I made this project. Re-living my research project before I’m even fully done (is anyone ever fully done their paper?) might even help me write a better one.
To learn the phenomenon of “invisible learning” meant conceding that the majority of the effort I’ve put into my research has evaporated, never to be retrieved or showcased. That being said, it doesn’t mean that it hasn’t helped me grow. The process of looking for research journals. The process of finding new data and scrutinizing sources. The process of writing. It may not be retrievable, but I know it has changed me, I’ve absorbed it all and in a way, it will be with me forever.
The Path of “Least-Expected” Resistance:
Some of my life philosophies are admittedly odd, but I will stand by their merits. With any luck, I’ll be able to look back on my 20’s from a position that will prove as evidence of these merits.
Many people subscribe to the exact opposite notions that I like to live my life by. For example, I don’t tend to pursue things where I know what the outcome will be. When I chose which University to attend form high school I had my pick, but instead of going to the University of Toronto or any of the other universities near to my parents’ apartment, I chose the only university that accepted me that would allow me to move out. I specifically remember a few weeks before my 18th birthday telling one of my coworkers (I worked at Tim Horton’s at the time, like many poor souls my age) that I didn’t want to go to UofT because it was just too predictable. I’ll never forget the puzzled look she gave me. It was like she thought I had completely lost my mind. This notion was solidified with her response: “Have you lost your [dang] mind?”. “Maybe, but I’d rather go somewhere that’ll send me on a life path I least expected.”
Instead, the University of Guelph seemed like the more attractive option to me. I loved the campus, the food, and the few people I met while on my campus tour were incredibly nice. Most importantly, I loved that I didn’t have the slightest clue what kind of future could be waiting for me there — living on my own in a strange town I had never before been to felt so much more interesting than going to Toronto — a city I was all too familiar with filled with Universities every decent student from my high school would go to. The lure of the unknown turns many people away, but it excited me. I could forge a truly unique path for myself there. Meet people that I would’ve never met. So I went off to Guelph.
Boy, was that the right choice. I’ve always had teachers tell me my potential was great if I could just channel it. My chemistry teacher (lookin’ at you Ms. Haddad) from high school pulled me aside in those final weeks of 12th grade to tell me that I could “do great things if I just work hard”. Okay, I thought - no pressure? Ms. Haddad’s words rang in my mind through my (very abysmal) first and second years of University. But instead of serving as a light, not to be over-dramatic — they lead me into darkness. I became overwhelmed at the prospect of messing up irreparably . I come from a poor family — not middle-class or lower middle-class — poor. If I made a mistake, whether it be financial, academic, or otherwise, there was no-one available to help me. This pressure destroyed me for my first 2 years of school. In my third year, I took up MMA and was finally beginning to see the light before, of course, COVID-19 struck with fury.
My philosophy at the onset and largely throughout the pandemic was simple. I can use this as a unique opportunity to fix everything I don’t like about my life! Instead of making it an excuse to do nothing, I chose to adapt and grow. I worked out at home religiously, read a lot more, began to dabble in keeping a journal which I then subsequently lost, and took my studies more seriously. By the end of the pandemic I could do 50 push-ups and 20 pull-ups, both exercises that I started at zero. More importantly, I disconnected from social media and made very conscious decisions regarding what I allowed to be on my “feed”. More importantly still, I started showing up to every class — and it was this change that led to me meeting a professor that changed the trajectory of my life and proved I made the right choice with the path of uncertainty, Francis Tapon.
Francis saw something in me that I didn’t yet see in myself. The first class I ever had with him was the second class of the semester as I secretly had planned on dropping his course because I didn’t like the way the grading was structured — thank goodness I didn’t. He had a “thing” where he and his assistant, David, would hang around in the Zoom call after class and anyone who wanted to stay and talk could discuss any topic related to economics. I was reluctant at first, choosing to skip the first two after-class meetings. The third time, however, I chose to join. Frankly, I don’t know why I did. I think I said something at the end of class that Francis had a lengthy response to thus forcing me to hang around after class. The rest is history. I came to every subsequent after-class discussion. I took a class with Francis twice more, and he agreed to supervise a paper on a topic I wanted to write about.
Now, I have a paper in the process of being published. Even if it doesn’t get published the journey to get to where I am has been astounding — I’m not the same person I was in first, second, or even third year, and for that growth I’m thankful. Who knows what could’ve happened had I gone to Toronto, but I’m glad I didn’t because I’m proud of where I’ve gotten to now and what it took to get there. The point of this whole post was that a lot’s happened in the last five years, none of which would have happened had I picked the path that was expected of me.
Now I’m left with a dilemma. Do I double down with my philosophy of choosing the path of “least-expected” resistance (A term I invented because I don’t think there is really ever a path of least resistance, just different resistance) or, do I play it safe and graduate now, head off into the workforce and have a predictable life? Now that I type it out, I think I know what the answer is.
What’s next? Maybe Mcgill, or maybe I leave Eastern Canada altogether and beeline to UCalgary, or, just maybe, I go to Toronto this time. Who knows — and that’s exactly how I like it.
Thanks for reading.
Signing off,
Khalil (TheStatsGuy)